


Being Green

by Lirema



Category: Dramaturgy - E ve (Music Video), Outsider - E ve (Music Video), e ve, e ve music videos
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29921754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lirema/pseuds/Lirema
Summary: The day I stop writing angst is the day the world comes to an end. Also more or less a continuation/spin-off of my Leo fanfic.
Relationships: Kurukuru/Pattun, Pattun/Kurukuru
Kudos: 1





	Being Green

**Author's Note:**

> The day I stop writing angst is the day the world comes to an end. Also more or less a continuation/spin-off of my Leo fanfic.

An explosion of green. God, he can’t take it anymore. Can spring end any sooner? Pattun swears, he’s probably heard something somewhere that every time you sneeze you lose some brain cells. Why, with the rate Kurukuru’s sneezing, he’s probably got zero brain cells left. Which is ironic considering...No, no time to waste mulling over weird dreams. Even if he didn’t get any sleep after it. No, the bus’ll be here any minute. His ticket to freedom from the entropy of life and the mundane. After another sneeze, Pattun sighs and folds his arms.

“That’s it, you’re coming home with me.”

The green-haired man sniffles under the mask, “But, Pattun, I-”

“No buts,” he points, “Mocchi would kill me if he knew I went out in public sneezing like that. I hope you’re disinfecting that thing on your face.”

And with that, the bus engine sputters to the stop.

He’s not sure where Kuru lives, but it doesn’t matter. Sick people make him sick. He’s sitting a row across from him, wouldn’t wanna get any germs from him. Even if he did drag him by the hand onto the bus earlier...He’s not sure why today of all days he’s feeling extra germaphobic. Maybe it's his insomnia. Maybe it’s Mocchi’s hospitality rubbing off of him. Either way, he’s physically and mentally tired of having to hear this guy sneeze every five seconds and scare the passengers. Ten obnoxious-sneezing minutes later, and the masked man is dragged to his apartment. Before he can say he’s home, Mocchi the giant goat-horned rabbit gives the croc-wearing scientist a big squeeze, lifting him off the ground and suffocating his lungs. Then the rabbit gasps at Kuru and carries him straight to the table. Pattun simply scoffs as the rabbit makes them both a bowl of soup.

“Ah, thank you for the offer, but I’m not-”

“Eat or I’m throwing you into the street.”

Pattun’s scorn earns a glare and a growl from Mocchi.

“Ok, fine, I won’t throw him into the street, geez.”

“Actually, I’m...just going to get some sleep.”

“Wow, way to have good food go to waste-”

“Good night-”

“It’s 6 PM.”

He slams the door to the bathroom. Then awkwardly opens the door.

“...You have a separate room I can sleep in?”

“Futon,” Pattun nonchalantly gestures to the living room, keeping his eyes on his soup. He knows Mocchi’s glaring daggers at him. He’s been used to having his heart stabbed like that, being judged for being rude. It’s not his fault Kuru clearly doesn’t know how to take care of himself. If he won’t even try doing that, why should he?

The soup tastes as salty as the ocean water in his dreams. Finishing it gives him a pit in his stomach. He turns to the living room, rolls his eyes. Ugh, the mask’s still on. He’s not even using a blanket. Then he turns to Mocchi, tilts his head to Kuru as a silent “keep him warm, fluffy butt”. The rabbit just gives a cheeky smile and heads to their room. It’s as if the world’s conspiring against him. Sheesh, it’s only been two months since they went on a double date, how does anyone expect him to be interested in Kuru? Maybe if he didn’t wear a mask, he’d…Ah, his face is turning red. With a growl, he shoves a blanket onto him and stomps to his room. Drowns in a sea of darkness. The frozen face of Kuru burned in his mind. Sweltering with sweat and tears.

He’s up again.

How does Kuru breathe in his sleep with a mask on? That’s his excuse. Yes, nothing more. He’s only up to check on Kuru to make sure he’s alive.

He certainly isn’t in his dreams.

A slip of his crocs, a creak of the floorboards. Ah, perhaps he should invest in a better apartment. Tiptoeing slightly, ever so slightly, then kneeling down, just inches from the pantomime’s masked face. Ah, good, he doesn’t budge. He’d look peaceful if he wasn’t wearing that stupid peice of plaster. The way his green hair accented it, practically screaming that there’s some forbidden beauty hidden behind there...or maybe a giant nose, who knows. He hopes it’s the latter. Either way, he’s tired of seeing that frozen face in his dreams. He’d reach out-

A clutch of his wrist, a stern, “I’m sleeping.”

“Yeah, sure, and I’m an octorok.”

“I can breathe just fine-” He insists with a roaring sneeze.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Pattun growls, snatching his hand back before Kuru sneezes on it, “It’s just a stupid mask, it’s not like your whole life depends on it-”

“Says the guy who’s too scared to admit he cares for me. Who’s the mask-wearing fool now?”

Pattun growls as Kuru sneezes again, face boiling red.

“Hey, I never asked for you to stay here!”

“Neither did I.”

“Who the hell do you think you are, not taking any food we offer you and stealing my bed!?”

“...You dragged me here,” He says with another sneeze, almost rattling the furniture.

Dead in his dreams, yet almost equally dead in real life. Pattun’s face, a red balloon, almost ready to explode. Sure, he may have dragged him against his will, but he could stand to show a little appreciation, right? He’d felt his hands: skinny, frail, like a twig ready to snap in half. He’d felt it in his dreams too. There’s something wrong with Kuru...something serious. Perhaps, in hindsight, it would’ve been better to talk to him about it. The dreams of death...Instead, however, he’d snatch the blanket and drag it into his room, curling himself up in bed like a cocoon. The pantomime doesn’t bother. He just sneezes some more, adding more to his insomnia. Dreams and reality, blurring into the twilight…

One thing’s for sure, though. The coughs behind the mask beg for death.


End file.
